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lilhemmo · 5 years

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the forbidden fruit pt. two

the forbidden fruit PART TWO: the downfall

ao3 | wattpad | masterlist

start from the beginning

THE DOWNFALL

The first months after Hades learned of The Prophecy, he swore that he would be content being the ruler of his own dominion. He knew the consequences and the privileges that come with ruling over a kingdom of your own, even if it is full of dead people. He swore he would be grateful to his brothers for the gift they’d given him. After all, it’s not every millennia that you get your own dominion.

“My apologies, little brother,” Zeus helps his youngest brother sit up when he comes to.

When Hades can see again, he holds his brother by the bicep to steady himself. He blinks slowly, eyes bleary as he gazes around, “Zeus, where are we?”

“The Depths,” Poseidon answers on behalf of the eldest. He swallows thickly, across at his two brothers, “We brought you here for your own safety, Sweet Pea.”

“You know how much I hate that,” Hades pushes himself away from his brothers. He swipes at the ash and dust on his tunic to busy his hands and then kicks his boots against the ground. “What do you mean ‘for my safety’? Am I not safe on Olympus, with the two of you by my side? None of this makes sense.”

“No, brother, you are far from safe.” Zeus crosses his arms over his chest and looks his youngest brother in the eyes, “There has been a horrible prophecy foretelling your downfall. We have brought you here to keep you safe. Only those whom you permit to pass are allowed in.”

“Brother-Mantle, what is going on? I-I want to go home.”

“I know, Sweet Pea,” Mantle puts his hands on his brother’s cheeks and tries to hide his own fear. He swallows, his throat bobbing, “But this is your home now. You can make it your own – do whatever you like with it! Rule it with an iron fist, make those who would come across you into your subjects. It’s a beautiful gift.”

Sweet Pea angles his head towards him with tears in his eyes and the eldest brother feels the knife in his chest turn just enough to hurt. It is not every day that you banish your brother to the Underworld. Mantle wraps his brother in a hug and pats him on the back, reassuring him with gentle whispers in his ears, no matter how false they may be.

It did take time to get used to living by himself, guarding the wayward souls and keeping the Underworld safe from outsiders. Charon watches The River, and The Guardians are his second-in-command. The Judgers send the souls to their respective fields, leaving Sweet Pea with little to actually do. Roaming the Underworld is tiresome and boring after a few repetitive years, and there’s only so many times you can play chess with yourself.

There once was a time when Sweet Pea would visit the other realms, Olympus and Earth alike, but those days have long since passed.

“Brothers and Sisters!” he shouts as he pushes his way up the stairway to Olympus. He chuckles, out of breath, “I know it has been a few years, but I-ow!”

Sweet Pea’s body flies backward, knocking the breath from his lungs when he lands. He rolls over, cradling his throbbing abdomen. It is only when he glances up at just the right moment does he notice the shimmering field protecting Olympus from Outsiders.

“Zeus?” he shouts in panic. “Poseidon! Aphrodite?!”

Anxiety overwhelms Sweet Pea’s body and he brushes his hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. The sweat glitters on his brow as his forehead crinkles in confusion. He attempts to make sense of it all – why would the shield bar him from Olympus? From his family?

The shield only comes on when there are intruders, those banished from Mount Olympus.

Sweet Pea wonders, theorizes, that he has been labeled as exiled, unable to return to the Heavens because his name is on The List of The Forbidden. To test his theory, he boldly reaches out with one palm and swats where the field is glimmering. His palm stings as it snaps back to his body, pulsing.

It makes no sense that he would be barred from Olympus. He has not completed any of the Abhorred Acts; he has done nothing to warrant exile. Sweet Pea begins to rack his brain to try and understand what might explain why he has been banished from Olympus. Exiled.

‘The Prophecy,’ Hades remembers. He ducks his head and forces himself away from the steps that would usually take him home, take him to his family, and instead he walks down to The Surface. ‘Mantle is protecting me from The Prophecy.’

The Surface is just as haphazard as it was the last time he visited. There are humans lying on the edges of the roads, their bones showing through gaunt faces as they beg for spare coins with an empty bowl.

Sweet Pea reaches to hand him a drachma, but the skinny man withdraws his cup and scatters like a rat. The young god tilts his head in confusion but puts his coin back in his purse and continues his exploration of The Surface.

It seems that every time he shows his face to a mortal, they are quick to run away from him, or they begin to form groups and he can hear their whispers as he passes by. The weight of the world sits on his shoulders as he makes his way through the marketplace of The Surface. He has never felt this sense of dread hanging between his brows before. As if it were palpable, but just barely out of his reach.

“E-Excuse me,” a small voice pipes up from his side. Sweet Pea turns to look at the young woman dressed in little-to-nothing who is currently draping herself over his arm. He smirks and leans his body down to meet her halfway, “Yes?”

“I-uh, I need a favor,” she drops him a wink.

He nods in response and she bites her lip, “Well, you see, Lord Hades, I-I have someone who needs to be taken care of. And I’ve heard you do that sort of thing – could you help me?”

Sweet Pea narrows his eyes and disentangles himself from the harlot, “Excuse me, woman?”

“I-I’m sorry, my lord,” she ducks her head, “I was told that you were the Lord of the Dead, I-I thought you could assist me in my-”

“I am not a killer,” he seethes, snatching her by the arm. She cowers in fear and he watches as her pupils envelope her blue irises. He can smell the fear taking over her body and so he lets her go with a quick thrust of his wrist.

“Do you not know that it is against the law of the gods to directly murder a mortal?” he asks her indignantly. She whimpers before turning on her heels and running off to hide behind a street corner.

Sweet Pea scoffs, rolling his eyes as he makes his way further into the marketplace. The eyes boring into him from all angles makes it even more difficult to walk in a straight line. He can smell their fear – it is palpable in the air and it sticks to his nostrils as he breathes it in. The stench of their fright courses through his airways and pushes his hair upward at the follicle.

Finally, he can bear it no longer and he turns on the mortals, growing three times in size to better reach them all. His figure towers over them and they cower in fear.

“Is that how you see me, mortals?!” Hades’ voice bellows. He looks down at the people, his arms held out in vulnerability. “You see me as some almighty executioner?”

As to be expected, none of them answer and he is left with mere silence.

“If that is how you wish to be, then so be it.”

Hades waves his arms, dark smoke twirling around his body as he reduces himself back to his human-size. The onlookers grow in numbers as the smoke spins like a tornado, picking up nearby carts and merchandise. The mortals hold on tightly to the nearest object to avoid being swept up into his deathly cyclone. Then, after another moment, the smoke slowly dissipates into nothingness, only a shadowy figure standing in its place.

And then their worst nightmares are realized.

Screams echo from the crowd, piercing cries splitting lips as fingernails are digging at their eyes. Hades crosses his arms over his chest as he looks into the fearful minds of those around him. If the fear was not palpable before, it is now. The emotions coat him like a blanket, searing into his skin as he looks at them panicked before him.

The man in front of him sees a terrifying beast foaming at the mouth, it’s skin burning into flakes as it’s white eyes glare deep into his soul. A woman to his right sees a tall figure with blue skin and burning hair, worms crawling from his teeth and snakes slithering around his arms like bracelets. A young child sees a black shadow with white fangs, a golden crown seated atop his head – a true prince of darkness.

“There you go,” he whispers in defeat, his head hanging. Despite the chaos, he pushes through the crowd and marches back to the entrance of Hades. Sweet Pea loads into his chariot, his beautiful black stallions bucking at his arrival. He pats their backs and settles into his seat, the reigns between his fingers.

“Let’s go home,” Sweet Pea murmurs as he slaps the reigns.

The horses thunder down the road until the ground splits open and swallows them back into The Depths.

Now the god of the Underworld sits on his throne built from ash and obsidian, and he looks down at the dominion he’s been given charge of. The River flows through, dark and dangerous, as Charon floats his passengers to their respective dwellings. The Guardians – Grief, Anxiety, Diseases, Old Age, Fear, Hunger, Need, Death, Agony, and Sleep – hold steady at the entrance to Hades.

Even though he has this entire domain to rule as he pleases, and minions to order into submission, Hades is lonely.

Sweet Pea spends his time reminiscing on his life from Olympus – and it seems so far away now. It feels like it was eons ago that he, Zeus, and Poseidon would wander through the clouds and banter with one another; that he would feel Aphrodite’s touch upon his cheeks as her warm skin radiated against his own.

Instead, it was eons ago that he was confined to The Depths. Even though it was for his own survival, his own safety, Hades cannot come to terms with the exile. He is falling down a hole from which he fears he can never claw out of.

Hades stands from his black throne and walks down the pile of bones to the path that leads to Nowhere and Everywhere all at once. His sandals trudge through the ash of those long past, kicking their remains into the air only for them to settle once again.

The path takes him through a winding hall, built to the top out of the bones of the mortals who now reside in Hades. Truth be told, he is no longer sure of where this place begins and he ends. He caresses the wall, looking up into the soulless eyes of someone who once had a life and a purpose, something to live for.

“There is no purpose here,” he echoes somberly as he opens the door to The Forbidden Chamber.

When Zeus and Poseidon locked him away in The Depths, they told him of this chamber. They told him of it’s great power, and how he was to never allow another soul to enter it, for inside The Forbidden Chamber was The Forbidden Fruit. There are none who know of its full potential, of its full power, but Zeus did warn him that if there was to be a soul who ate from it, they might be trapped in The Depths for eternity, and whatever follows after.

The door gives way to the warmest room in The Depths. There is light here, and Hades believes that it is all because there is a soul living in The Forbidden Fruit. He swears he hears its heartbeat the closer he steps towards to The Fruit.

He recalls when his brothers first brought him down to this room; he remembers walking these halls with them as they warned him of the treacherous fruit that resided there.

“The one who eats of the fruit will be doomed to this place forever, Sweet Pea,” Poseidon warns as they break through the doors. “The number of seeds you ingest is the number of months per annual cycle you are beholden to this world. Those who want you in danger or out of their way will try to use it to poison you, to force you to eat of the fruit. This is precisely why you must never tell another of this place. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Jughead,” Hades uses the name like a weapon. He cuts his eyes at his brother, “I think I understand.”

Poseidon rolls his eyes, scoffing, “I swear, I get my head stuck in a wine jug at one festival, and the two of you can’t-”

“At least it isn’t Sweet Pea,” Hades argues, crossing his arms over his chest. He takes a look at the fruit and becomes somber at a memory of the origin of his name. “I couldn’t help it that I loved those flowers, they reminded me of Mother.”

Sweet Pea brushes his hand over the glass that contains the powerful fruit, a seemingly innocent object that could be his very undoing. Should anyone find it, should anyone understand of its power, they could chain him here forever.

A many years later, after Hades has seen countless souls pass through The River, the loneliness that began to plague him has yet to subside. There have been attempts to take The Underworld from him, but he has quelled them with the slashing of his sword and the flick of his fingertips, unleashing his dark magic on those who would oppose him. He enjoys the game, the bloodshed, and he does not fear for he has kept The Fruit hidden.

“We need a new protector,” he thinks to himself as The Guardians clean up the wreckage from a recent attempt to break a demigod from the pits of Tartarus. Hades walks around the planes of the Underworld, dragging his boots through the caked ash as he ponders.

He smirks before waving his hands through the air, contorting his fingers in all directions as incantations fall from his full lips. A dark being materializes from nothing, starting as a shadow and turning into something else. Hades pulls on thin air, teeth and hair and blood emerging from a tiny shadow wavering in thin air. Dragging his arms further and further apart, Hades creates what will soon be known to the mortals and gods alike as Cerberus, the Three-Headed Protector of the Underworld.

“C’mere boy,” he climbs onto the back of the middle head, scratching the dog behind his ear. “Let us show them what we are made of.”

Even still, as he and Cerberus wreak havoc on The Surface, it is not enough. The carnage and the retribution are not enough. Cerberus is an animal, incapable of speech no matter how much feeling he reciprocates with the looks in his eyes. Hades loves the beast, but he does not satiate the void for kinship, even if the animal can quench his bloodlust.

Years following the birth of Cerberus, Hades wanders the earth in search of a companion. He cannot find another who reciprocates his diplomatic sense coupled with the need for chaos and vengeance, but in his search, he does find a serpent at his feet.

He knows the animal is hated, feared, all for no reason other than its defensive mechanisms. He picks up the animal by its throat and stares into its eyes. Upon seeing into the void, he smirks and drags the animal back to the Underworld with him, strangling it in the process.

Hades buries the dead animal in the dirt beside The River and takes a deep breath, digging his hands into the soil. His eyes roll back in his head and a soft spell falls from his lips as he imbues the ground with the body of the snake, and the blood of his magic.

“Rise,” he speaks finally, his eyes opening to see a group of dark spirits in front of him, growing by the minute.

They smile in unison, revealing fangs and black eyes, “Yes, Maker. How may we be of service?”

-----

Hades allows the demons to roam the earth confined in their natural form, that of a serpent. When they return to The Depths, they are free to walk as human-like creatures, with bodies that can be either male or female.

“Why did you pick a serpent?” his favorite of the demons asks one day.

“Fangs,” Hades smiles and extends a hand to his friend’s face, the skin cold and scaly to the touch, “Serpents are hated on The Surface. They are avoided like a plague, treated as monsters. I saw them and I sympathized with them. And so, the one begat many.”

“And the many is us,” another female serpent raises her voice. She crosses her arms over her chest and flicks her tongue out before approaching Hades on his obsidian throne which burns endlessly, “Right, Maker?”

“Correct, Topaz.” Hades confirms with a sly grin. “And I allowed you to choose your own names because I believe in freedom. That is also why you are allowed to roam The Surface in your serpent form.”

Hades runs his fingers over his neck, which brings Fangs and Topaz’s attention to his skin where an image of a continuous serpent is burned into his flesh.

“That is where our essence resides, is it not?” she asks, unsure if she wishes to know the true answer.

Her Maker nods, a somber look in his eyes, “With every curse, every magic act, one must pay a price. When I created you, I lost a part of myself, the symbol of your existence stitched onto my skin for eternity.”

And so, the serpents and their Maker reside in peaceful amnesty. They grow close, forming bonds that will last more than lifetimes of the mortals who live above them. They tell him what has become of the earth, for as more time passes, Hades retreats further away from civilization and society.

Despite his newfound family, Sweet Pea grows bitter as the years pass. His family, his blood, do not visit, they do not call out to him. The mortals become increasingly defamatory of his name, blaming the Prince of Darkness, the Lord of the Underworld, for their loved ones’ deaths. They blame him for the wrongs of the world, the sins that they refuse to atone for.

And if they are not blaming him, they are praying to him. He hears pleas echoed with bloodlust and trickery. The only prayers that come to his ears are that of murder and wrong doing.

“Do they forget that I am also the god of invisibility, the god of riches?!” Hades slams his fists into his throne, cracking it. The divine properties of the throne allow it to repair itself before Hades even takes another breath.

He seethes through his teeth, “I am not a mercenary to further their cause. Do these incompetent mortals not understand that a god cannot directly kill a human? Do they not know of the law?”

Eventually, Hades makes the decision to curse his own ears so he can no longer hear the greedy human’s prayers. He removes himself from his temples, refusing to listen to their cries of death and mischievousness.

Their evil thoughts plague him no longer, and he refuses to admit that he sometimes misses the idle chatter of the insolent beings of The Surface.

The demigods visit him to try and trick him into releasing the objects of their quests from the pits of Tartarus. Every time, he gives them the option to turn around, to keep from crossing him, and yet every time, they choose to swing their blade.

The serpents notice the callouses growing on their Maker. He is becoming cruel, increasingly judgmental as he throws souls into the Fields of Asphodel, cursed to wander there. They fear for their own existence, for if their Maker cannot satiate his lust for injustice with the mortals of The Surface, what is to stop him from taking out his hatred on them?

There is a day, a long while after Hades begins to set like concrete, where his façade falters and he smiles for the first time in decades. Topaz notices it first, and she alerts Fangs. They watch together as a grin turns his lips skyward as he sits idly on his throne, a musical instrument in his hands.

“I do not understand,” Fangs whispers, his lisp catching the word. He looks up to his female counterpart and blinks, “I-Is everything okay?”

She nods, sneaking a glance at their Maker. Topaz swallows and reaches out to cup Fangs’ cheek, “Something is changing.”

A few months pass before it happens again. Hades is feeding Cerberus when Joaquin, another serpent with brown skin and blue eyes, notices the slightest of upturns of his Maker’s lips.

Immediately, he confides in his serpent family, whispering in their ears about how he’s never seen Maker’s teeth unless he was shouting at a wayward soul.

“I believe that Aphrodite has been visiting,” the tallest of the Serpents speaks with a smirk. Topaz waves her hand, “Regardless of who is visiting, it is none of our business to meddle with The Maker. Let him have his happiness.”

And so, the Serpents leave well enough alone. It is only when Hades has smiled for the third time that Topaz begins to question things. She has been by his side most days, also accompanied by Fangs, and so she knows there is no way a goddess could be slipping into his bed.

“We need to go to the surface,” Topaz whispers to Fangs one night after the other Serpents have slithered into their bed holes. “There must be an enchantress trying to lull him into some sense of calm before she lays claim to the throne of Hades.”

Fangs takes a deep breath before nodding, “I’m right behind you, my friend. Lead the way.”

The ground opens up near the Statue of Hades, and the two serpents slither out from it. They disentangle themselves from one another and move around from the back of the statue, surveying their surroundings.

In the distance, they see a small girl picking flowers, but she is the only human presence they can sense for miles. Even so, Topaz leads Fangs further into The Surface, and together they search for any potential threats to their Maker.

It takes hours, but the only mention of Hades from the mortals is that in passing, mentions of how to accuse the god of the underworld for their misfortunes. They finally return to the underworld, both agreeing not to speak a word of the possible threat to neither their Serpent family or to their Maker.

There is a lapse in time where the Serpents can feel their Maker’s temper begin to flare again. He has returned to his calloused ways, his judgment swift and the punishment unfair. For a fleeting moment, Topaz and Fangs wish the threat would return even if just so they can be reprieved from their Maker’s unkind behavior.

The moment is fleeting, but the Maker is taking a trip down The River when Topaz sees the warmth of a smile spread over his cheeks, his eyes averted to the bottom of the boat as he soaks in the feeling. She wonders if he even knows that his expression betrays him, but there isn’t time to ponder over such things.

“Surface. Now.” Topaz orders to Fangs.

They slip between the crevice in the ground, slithering to the front of the statue. They wander through the temple, searching for any signs of danger. To their surprise, they are met with a womanly figure, her hair braided away from her face and a plethora of flowers in her dark hair.

“Sweet peas,” Topaz speaks to Fangs in a language only they can hear. “Look familiar?”

Fangs glances up at the girl aging into a woman and he is sure that she is just as familiar as the flower. It has been years since their last trip to the surface, but he distinctly remembers the backside of a young woman fading into the smoke.

The backside of his tail flicks to hit Topaz, “She is the girl.”

Topaz turns to look him in the eye, her tongue flicking out from between her fangs. She cocks her head in questioning, but he merely gestures with a glance to the young woman sitting in the temple, singing a familiar song.

The song was written when Hades cut himself off from the world, disallowing humans to speak to him directly through prayer. Lyrics speak of death and dismay and she sings them with a smile on her face while twirling a sweet pea stalk in between her fingers.

“Oh!”

Topaz and Fangs expect her to try and stomp on them, to snap them at their necks. But what she does next surprises them.

“Why hello there, little ones,” she smiles with bright gray eyes. “Are you lost?”

Fangs turns to his serpent friend and then back to the human in front of them, completely dumbfounded. Hades had told them that serpents were cursed on The Surface, that humans detested them.

“Oh don’t worry,” the young woman reaches down to touch the tops of their heads with just the pads of her fingers. “I won’t hurt you. You’re too pretty.”

Later, when Topaz and Fangs return to the underworld, they still feel her warm touch bleeding from the crowns of their heads to the bottoms of their feet.

Fangs shakes his head, “There’s no way. The Maker cannot hear prayers. She wasn’t praying, she was just-existing. How is this-”

“Coincidence,” Topaz interrupts him. She shakes her head, “It is merely coincidence. Nothing more.”

-----

It takes years for The Maker to smile again like he used to. In the midst of the time between his last smile and his next, Topaz and Fangs scour The Surface to find the source of the warmth. They visit every spellbound place, every spot on The Surface that is imbued with magic. Their search always has them return emptyhanded, no less confused than they were when they began.

This time, his smiles are consistent. It is twelve days in a row with the soft expression on his face before Topaz pushes her way back to The Surface again.

She sits, waiting for the next day that someone will grace the Statue of Hades.

It is another three days before a woman with dark hair and grey eyes returns to the statue.

“Oh hi, little one,” she reaches down and pats Topaz on the top of her head ever so gently. She grins, “I have missed you and your friend these past weeks. Do you wish to stay with me while I talk to him?”

Topaz flicks her tongue as she considers the young woman’s words. She smiles with bright white teeth, sharp at the edges, and sits down on the temple floor, “He is the only one who understands me, little one. Sweets and I are the same.”

And suddenly it all makes sense.

----

a/n: i hope you guys liked meeting hades!pea - he is a treasure to write! i’ve decided i’m going to post a new part every friday around this time in the evening :) so be looking out for part three next week! and in the meantime, let me know your thoughts on the current parts that have been posted!

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bluesrrgents · 7 years

Note

Hi dear!! So sorry to bother you (again because i've asked you for fic recs before and they WERE amazing so im back aha) but would hav any good jerejean fic recs?? Ive become kinda obsessed with them

hii you’re never a bother!! sorry this took so long i lost my list of jerejean fics that i’ve read r i p zoe! they’re all under the cut and * means i haven’t read it yet, and please make sure to look at the warnings if you have any triggers!! have fun reading:)

thanks again to everyone who offered me some more recs :)

*hair dye by profslupin

Renee convinces Jean to let her dye his hair. The rest is exactly what you’d expect. (2k)

*mirrors by profslupin

The Trojans help Jean learn to look in the mirror and see himself instead of his scars

“Jean had a complicated relationship with his appearance. It wasn’t that he was insecure about his flaws, necessarily, but rather that they reminded him of his time in the Nest. Of his time with him.” (2.6k)

*watermarked by fairietailed

He hops into the kitchen on one foot, catching his mother before she carries the bowl of peas she’s holding into the dining room.

“Jeremy?” Her eyebrows pull together in concern at the look on his face. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” he says, sticking out his foot. “I think it’s my soul mate?”

–

In which bruises and scars from your soulmate appear on your skin, and Jeremy’s skin is a myriad of colored stains. (4.6k)

*and i wanna come home to you. by redhoods

He’s so absorbed in staring at the way the sleeves are pulled up around his wrists that he doesn’t realize the team has filed out to the locker rooms until Jeremy crouches into his line of sight, “Everything alright?”

No, he thinks desperately, you’re too much.

“Sure,” he says eventually, standing up and walking away.

this is actually two parts, so it’s about 6k total

*the smell of honey by lilaliacs

Martha’s was a cozy little coffee shop that always smelled of honey, lilacs and something that couldn’t be described as anything less than home.And that’s what it was to Jeremy, who had spent his childhood sat on a stool at the tiny bar, coloring in the patterns of the menus, or watching his mother creating the most beautiful cakes and pastries that he had ever seen.

The place was filled with good memories and everyone who came in could sense the atmosphere of peace that seemed to fill the soft light falling in through lacy curtains at any time of day. In fact, multiple patrons had stated that they came in for exactly this, for a break from their everyday stress, to just grab a coffee and absorb whatever magic the smell of Martha’s cakes emitted and it was something Jeremy’s mother was very proud of.It was also something Jeremy was very proud of, and the reason for him to put his all in making the customers’ time there worthwhile.He never thought that one day, doing that would be a challenge.

(AU in which everything is the same only that Jeremy isnt captain of the trojans but works in his mom’s coffeeshop instead) (11k)

*eyes wide open by jaylocked

Jean blinked. Blinked again. Was sure he didn’t recognize the man on his doorstep, with his bright eyes and enormous grin and wavy blonde hair. Waited for him to explain himself with a simple raised eyebrow.

“Hi!” the man finally chirped. The sound was happiness channeled into a single word, and Jean wasn’t sure how he didn’t hate him already.

(based on the prompt from tumblr: “hi sorry I live below you and I hear your dog running around and barking all the time and– no no it’s fine I was just wondering if I could pet it?” au) (13k)

*i’ll come crashing by exyfexyfoxes

Hades/Persephone in the modern world where Jean runs an underground club that herds the souls of the dead. It’s a place where even gods die if they stay too long, regardless of how many pomegranate seeds they eat. Jean wants out. Jeremy wants in. Everybody wants them far away from each other. (19k)

*je reviens by laarusthefirst

‘Moreau is a rain cloud,’ Alvarez muttered, annoyed and bruised, watching Jean stalk ahead to the changing rooms. ‘He’s the human embodiment of a headache. He is the opposite of a Trojan.’‘Fucking good though, isn’t he?’ grinned Connor, jogging past.‘Can’t we all just be nice?’ Jeremy asked. (20k)

*this ink is still drying by ghostqueen

You can’t control who you want and you can’t control who hurts you

Jeremy was staring at Jean’s arms, tracing the bright swirls and splotches of ink that made up his sleeves with his eyes. His sleeves had been months of work and they still weren’t quite complete, he was still figuring out how to finish them. The first tattoo on his arms had been eight months ago, his first tattoo had been long before that. (26k)

*thick skin, an elastic heart by badacts

Jean sleeps around and learns how to make friends rather than alliances. Jeremy falls in love and can’t stop fucking up. (26k)

*ask the messenger by metis_ink

Jeremy Knox and the soulmate.

Guest starring: Exy, a transfer student, generalized anxiety, older sisters, drunk lesbians, bread, cake, a shed, the beach, the absence of Hennessy, Star Wars, Renee Walker, self-taught smooth talking, gratuitous French, No. 1 Trojans fan Kevin Day, relationship drama, general drama, the power of Friendship, questions, answers, team spirit!, and, of course, romance. (32k)

he could taste the stars by subtlehysteria

Jean is still adjusting to being a Trojan, Jeremy tries to help Jean open up to his new team. (47k)

*shield for a heart by neilskey

“It’s your choice, but you’re rotting away in here, Jean and no matter what she says, you can’t live in Abby’s spare bedroom forever. Time to start fighting again.”

Kevin’s hard and commanding tone was no surprise. The softness had been beaten out of him around the same time as Jean.

“What if I don’t want to anymore?”

Maybe it was because he had been half hidden in shadows-Jean had kept the shades drawn, but light still seeped in the cracks- but Jean thought he had seen something akin to understanding paint Kevin’s cool expression.“He’s gone. You survived. Play or don’t, it’s up to you, but you need to get out of this fucking house.”//Jean’s first year at USC. Jeremy falls hard, Jean comes around eventually. (55k)

*a little illumination by lazarusthefirst

Jean’s a lonely firefighter, and Jeremy teaches kindergarten. Everyone learns something about themselves. (56k)

*shooting for the stars, desperately reaching for something in the dark by cryptidkidprem

“He just won’t be back in black.”

A look at Jean’s first year with the Trojans, and his slightly rocky path to recovery. (146k)

WIPs:

*these streets by profslupin

alternate title: Jean and Jeremy’s Guide to an Epic Cross Country Road Trip

After one of Alvarez’s pranks leaves the boys stranded in South Carolina after a game, they decide to take the long route home. (1.6k, chapters 1/?)

*under the sun by knox_moreau

Jean Moreau is an exy player, not a writer. At least that’s what he thinks. His newfound therapist, however, has other ideas. Seeing as Jean refuses to talk to her in his hour-long therapy sessions, Ms. Dawson suggests perhaps writing down whatever he’s keeping inside. Jean can’t possibly see how he’s expected to write when he has nothing to write about. Then comes Jeremy Knox, in all his brightness and magnitude. Maybe, Jean thinks, he has something to write about. (7.2k, ch. 5/?)

*daffodils & gardenias by profslupin (any and all works by meg sponsored by this blog)

Jeremy Knox is the owner of a tattoo parlor when Jean Moreau opens up a flower shop next door. Jeremy gets a crush, but thankfully Laila and Alvarez are there to play matchmaker, with the help of Renee. (14k, ch. 9/?)\

*leaving marks by blackcatiiix

In a world where your soulmate’s injuries appear as bruises on your skin, Jeremy is… struggling. And that’s even before he meets Jean Moreau. (46k, ch. 12/?)

*marrow without bone by exyfexyfoxes

Onscreen Jeremy didn’t hesitate, displaying an eagerness that translated well across television. “Yeah, I spoke to Jean earlier this week. He’s definitely done for the year but he’ll be back in the fall.”Then, impeccably, a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “He just won’t be back in black.“Jean’s eyes narrowed.

(The season hasn’t even started yet and Jeremy already wants to cut their newest player from the team. Making the switch from Raven to Trojan isn’t quite what Jean thought it would be.) (68k, ch. 18/20)

#ask #tfc fic #tfc fic rec #fic #fic rec #aftg fic #aftg fic rec #tfc #aftg #the foxhole court #all for the game #jeremy knox #jean moreau #jerejean #tfc fanfic #aftg fanfic #zoe.txt

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lilhemmo · 5 years

Text

the forbidden fruit pt. three

the forbidden fruit PART THREE: the surface

ao3 | wattpad | masterlist | askbox summary: the reimagined persephone and hades au that nobody asked for word count: 3.2k+ warnings: alcohol and blood tw part one | part two

T H E S U R F A C E

"I grow tired of this world," she complains, digging her feet into the dirt. She looks up at his statue, glaring into his eyes, "I think you're scared of me, Prince of Darkness, Lord of the Shadows. I think that is why you will not come and find me."

Lilith shakes her head and a laugh bubbles from her lips, "I am glad to have you during this time, though. Mother is growing tiresome. She continues to tell me to be just like the other children, but I will not do it. I will not succumb to their weak-willed conformities."

She runs her fingertips over the engraving at the base of his statue, admiring how his name looks dug into the marble. Lilith tilts her head as the familiar sounds of her serpent friends distract her from her monologue.

"Good evening, darlings," she reaches out to the smallest serpent and allows her to crawl up her forearm and lick her face. Lilith giggles before petting the thickest serpent, scratching gently on the underneath side of his head.

Lilith lays down in the dirt, looking up at the night sky, "How can such terrible gods create something so beautiful?"

The bigger serpent slithers up her chest to look into her eyes. She smiles at him and he opens his mouth as if to reciprocate the expression, but he is still limited to his own body and therefore looks more intimidating than he means to be. Even still, Lilith rubs her index fingertip over the top of his head down to his tail.

"I wonder if Sweets knows that his nephew is throwing a party down here on Earth," Lilith raises a brow at the smallest serpent. "I wonder if he will attend?"

The Serpents stay until Lilith has to return home. They slip back to The Depths and morph into their human forms before seeking out their Maker.

"He's not going to listen to you," Fangs seethes as they approach The Maker's chambers.

Topaz shrugs, "It has to be worth trying."

The Maker looks down from his ashen throne and smiles at the Serpents down below. He materializes in front of them as a puff of smoke, a grin on his lips.

"Yes? Is there something you need, my friends?"

"Maker," Topaz starts, her clawed hands crossing together in front of her scaly body, "your nephew, Dionysus, will be-"

Hades shakes his head and holds his palm up, "Is this another ploy to get my back to The Surface?"

Fangs steps forward, tilting his head to implore his Maker, "Lord, we just want to see you get out of this bleak place now and again. It cannot be healthy."

"I will not listen to this," Hades waves his hand. "The humans do not appreciate my presence on The Surface. It is better for me to stay here, but the two of you are welcome to go and taste the wine of my nephew."

Topaz and Fangs glance at one another one final time before bowing their heads and stepping away from their Maker.

Together they spend days traveling back and forth to and from The Surface, spending time with Lilith, waiting on their next opportunity to try and convince The Maker to return.

-----

"I do believe your Maker should attend this festival," Lilith gushes one day a few weeks later. She rolls around in the sweet peas, laying on her belly and looking the snakes in the eyes. She grins, "I think he would love this festival. We are all gathering together to send coins down to The Underworld for the souls who have yet to pass down the River Styx."

She runs the pad of her finger down the back of the smallest serpent, "Won't he like that? It will send the wayward souls down The River, allowing him some sort of peace. Don't you think?"

The young woman with dark hair and gray eyes sits quiet, waiting for them to responds. The serpents' flick their tongues out in some sort of answer, and it makes a giggle split her lips. She purses her mouth and pushes her tongue between her teeth to mirror their actions.

"I will go and wait for him there," she tells them, "even if he does not come, I'll be there. Will you tell him?"

The serpents slither back into the grass and Lilith is left on her own once more.

They are quick to deliver the news of the event to The Maker.

"Good for them," Sweet Pea responds with a wave of his hand. "It will be nice to have a new rotation of wandering souls at the base of The River."

Topaz rolls her eyes and thrusts her hands towards the god, "You cannot go on like this forever, my lord."

"Oh, Topaz," he smirks in a devilish way, "you underestimate me."

-----

Lilith twirls a sweet pea stalk between her fingers, a girlish grin on her lips. She stares up at the marble statue, her savior of sorts, and sniffs the floral bud.

"I suppose I should stop telling you about these festivals to try and get Sweets to show, huh?" she asks the small serpent in front of her. Her smile falters slightly as the heat of tears wells up in the back of her eyelids, but she forces herself to pick up the pieces and continue on anyway.

"This one would be spectacular," Lilith explains. She rests the flower atop the tiny serpent's head, and watches as she tries to balance it on her scales. "It is a celebration in honor of Sweets himself. The whole city is gathering to celebrate the day he birthed the Underworld."

The serpent tilts her head and then coils around Lilith's arm, tightening around the appendage to steady herself. Lilith rubs her cheek against the serpent's head, closing her eyes at the motion.

"I understand why he keeps himself locked away in that prison," Lilith tells the serpent, her voice quiet. She has sadness hanging in her eyes, "He is so poorly treated here on earth, and in Olympus. All the other gods are clearly not supporting him like family should."

She shakes her head, dark hair falling over her shoulders. Lilith gives the serpent a half-smile, "I will take a sip of blackened wine in his honor, little one. I know you're trying your hardest to bring him to our land for a visit. He will come, but the stubborn god will have it be on his own time."

-----

Topaz grabs Fangs by the collar and practically drags him across the Underworld floor. He tries to push back against her, but it's no use – she's much stronger than him.

"Maker!" she shouts as Hades begins to walk down The River.

Sweet Pea looks over his shoulder and smirks, "Yes, Topaz?"

She huffs, her serpentine tongue flickering between her teeth. She crosses her arms over her chest, "There's a festival tonight, on The Surface."

"The Surface, you say?" he asks, sarcastically entertaining the idea. He tilts his head in the serpent-girl's direction, "I would like to see how you try and coerce me into attending this time, Topaz."

"I-It's a festival in your honor, my Lord," Fangs supplies, reaching out to touch Sweet Pea on the shoulder. He smiles, "They're going to be drinking black wine and eating dark fruits. There will be fires made and animals sacrificed in your honor! Tonight is all about you, Maker."

Sweet Pea rubs his face which has grown stubbled in his negligence. He chuckles, a deep rumble that shakes the very ground they walk on, "The humans do not wish for my presence on The Surface, my friends. They may claim this festival is in my honor, but I do not think I would be welcome."

"How could you not be welcome at your own festival?" Topaz sneers, narrowing her eyes in questioning. Fangs looks at her with widened irises, a warning in his gaze.

"The humans see me as they want to see me, serpents," Hades explains. "If I go, all I will do is frighten them."

"Not all of them," Topaz supplies in a high-pitched voice, avoiding her Maker's eyes.

Hades sighs, running a hand through his dark locks. He shakes his head and fights the smirk on his lips, "If you insist, my serpent friend. Ready the horses, we will leave soon."

He walks up the hill to greet his canine companion, his grin growing with every step he takes further into the ash, "Come, my pet. There's no reason you cannot join us as well."

Topaz turns her head in confusion, skin glittering as the fire permanently ablaze in the underworld glints off of her. Hades begins to twirl his fingers and Cerberus' body starts to contort, shrinking down into the dirt.

"Holy you," Topaz stares in awe at the single-headed, normal-sized dog loiters in front of her, licking at his Master's fingertips. He bounds around, dark eyes staring up at the both of them, waiting for some sort of affection.

Hades scratches behind his ears and looks up at Topaz, "I think we are ready to go."

-----

It is sunset when the black chariot from the underworld finally splits through the ground. There are lanterns hanging in the sky, burning blue to represent the fire of the underworld. As the chariot rides past, Hades watches from the distance as people drink from black chalices, their lips stained dark with wine.

He chuckles, "I would expect Dionysus is at the root of this."

"It's beautiful," Topaz hisses from around his bicep. The Serpents are still not allowed to show their humanoid form on The Surface, but they can still communicate with Hades despite their restrictions.

"It's something," Fangs echoes, twirling his head every which way to take it all in. He flicks his spiked tongue between his fangs and crawls onto Hades' shoulder to look out at the scenery.

Hades brushes his fingertips through Cerberus' hair, smiling down at his canine friend. The chariot halts and the god steps down onto the earthen ground. He then turns his head to glance at each of the serpents before pushing his way through the crowd gathered around a large fire.

The stench of hot blood and flesh fills his nostrils as the god walks closer to the pyre where the offerings are burning. Hades can feel the sacrifices make their way to the underworld; his body feels refreshed, restored. He opens his eyes and coils his fists, a triumphant smirk on his lips.

He pulls his cloak further around his face as he begins to weave through the crowd, Cerberus held on a leather rope attached to the god's wrist. The serpents hide under his clothing, tightening around his biceps and resting their heads in his collarbones.

As Hades passes, people grasp at their throats and bellies, complaining about a churning and a bubbling suddenly sparking in their bodies. He tries to steel his spine against their reactions at his arrival and wills himself to disregard the negative aura he's surrounded with. The serpents literally clutching his muscles does help to sober him as he feels his godly blood pumping in his own veins. Cerberus continues to guide him towards a fountain so he may drink from it, tongue parched from the heat of the Underworld.

Sweet Pea licks his lips and guards his face from those who might identify him, keeping his back to as many passersby as humanly possible. He swallows as he gets closer to the heart of the event, more humans crowding him and making him sweat.

"It must be the wine," he hears an older gentleman gripe. "Dionysus must have given us an old batch, uncured and rancid. I think I'm going to be sick."

The god refuses to pay mind to measly mortals. He huffs, thinking: They probably just can't handle the amount of alcohol Dionysus keeps. They'll be fine in the morning. Or they'll be dead. I guess I'll be the first to know.

Cerberus sniffs people's feet, drawing some attention but only to himself. The crowd loves to reach and pet behind his ears, and Cerberus has an equal desire for the affection. In his smaller form, his ferocities are fewer and he craves the human touch. Hades wishes that he were the same.

"I don't feel so good," he hears a small child whine from beside him. Their parent picks them up, holding them around the waist and shushing them.

Sweet Pea pushes closer, feeling stronger as the offerings grow in number. Prayers press against his ears, but he tries harder not to hear them. He grips the leather strap holding him to Cerberus tighter, the worn material biting into his palm and giving him some sense of clarity amongst the chaos.

Another woman turns as soon as he brushes past her shoulder, "Adrian, I am suddenly unwell. Do you think we might turn in early?"

The god hears voices such as this all around him, complaining of their sickened bellies and their rancid wine. He is suddenly so overwhelmed with the fearful thoughts of those around him that he doesn't pay attention when he bumps into a young woman, causing her to stumble.

He reaches out, accidentally touching her elbow as he steadies her. A swift apology passes his lips before he turns his back to her so she is unable to identify him as the monster she sees.

"It's quite all right," she chuckles, even though he's already dismissed her. "This wine is getting to my head as well."

Her mother, Hades assumes, reaches out and grasps her by the shoulders, "My love, I believe the wine has been poisoned or poorly prepared. Are you not sick like the others?"

Sweet Pea pushes past her just as he hears: "No, mother, I actually rather liked the drink."

The god tucks his hood further around his chin, hiding his true face from those around him as a crowd gathers to the bonfire.

"Tonight we celebrate the Prince of Darkness, the Lord of the Underworld, the god of The Depths!" A man stands tall in front of the crowd, his arms gesturing wide, "Tonight, we lift up our prayers to the most evil Lord Hades in hopes that he will turn his ear towards us and heed our cries! He has sworn off prayer, that much we know, but it is possible that if we can prove to him that we are worthy of his affections, he may open his mind to us all once more."

Suddenly, all around him, people begin to fall face first into the dirt, their hands raised above their heads as they recite prayers and passages under their breath. They dig their fingers into the ground and whisper to the god of death, eyes shut as the fire beats down on top of them.

The voices all come at him twice - once directly and once again indirectly. The amount of prayers pushing through the field of the underworld makes him dizzy and cold. He wraps his arms around himself in an attempt to hold his body together.

"I pray you will punish my husband," one woman requests with gritted teeth.

"Please, Lord Hades, help me rid myself of my awful wife," a man pleads with tears in his eyes.

"Oh, great god," an older man speaks, "please heed my cry and take my life. I am in far too much pain to stay here another day."

It is all so overwhelming. Sweet Pea's mind begins melding at the flood of voices and words and emotions coming through all at once. He blinks hard, trying to rid himself of all the negative, dark thoughts he is wading through.

"I think we should leave," Topaz whispers to her Maker, tightening around his bicep. Fangs gives him another squeeze, seconding her request, and Hades grasps Cerberus around the rope and tugs him away from the scene.

"I don't even know why I'm here," he hears another voice say. "None of them truly understand you, sweets."

The words make his toes dig in the dirt, his body halting as the nickname hits his ears. He looks around frantically, wondering if the source of the voice is one of his kin. Sweet Pea fights a smile at the idea of seeing one of his brothers again.

When he turns his head, all he sees is the backside of a young woman, dark hair covering her shoulders like a curtain. The spit in his mouth turns sour at his hopefulness. He scowls, and Hades pushes the thought of his family out of his mind. Hades begins forcing himself to walk further and further away from the gathering. People try to grasp him by the arms and legs and beg him to pray to himself, but he shakes them off and continues through.

His body is somehow weakened by the time he returns to his temple, legs shaking under the strain of being in a human form for far too long. He gasps, digging his palms into the dirt so the Serpents have a way to slither back down into the dirt.

"I need a moment, my friends, if you would be so kind," he manages to push the words through his white teeth. Sweet Pea sits on his knees, staring up at his very own statue, the marble looking back at him with soulless eyes and a broken heart.

"This is all they think of me," Sweet Pea whispers. "They think of me as some mercenary they can offer burnt rabbits to in exchange for my taking of a soul. I am nothing but a transactional god to them."

His lower lip trembles and he looks up to the heavens, "Zeus and Poseidon were right. I will always be in danger here, everywhere."

He beats his fists into the ground, cracking the stone he kneels upon. Tears drip onto the marble and he seethes curses through his teeth. Nothing can repair his damaged heart, his broken mind, not now.

Sweet Pea stands to his feet and the Serpents guide him to the chariot. Cerberus climbs in the front, awaiting his master. The horses buck, ready to return to their home. Their black hair gives way to a burning red mane, the heat from their flaming extremities warming Hades' face.

"Let's go home, my friends," he whispers, grasping the reigns and sitting back in his seat.

The horses are quick to pick up speed as the ground opens beneath them. The Serpents can morph into their opposing forms as soon as the grass grows back from where they once came. Topaz gasps for breath, the transformation still strange as it mutilates her bones and stretches her scaly skin.

Fangs lays his head on his Maker's arm, "I am sorry, Lord Hades. They do not deserve you."

The ride into The Depths is silent, save for the clambering of the horse hooves and Cerberus' occasional barking. Hades keeps one hand on the reigns and the other on Cerberus' neck, scratching him with his thumbnail.

They land with a thundering of hooves and a burst of flames as the chariot makes contact with the obsidian ground of the Underworld. Sweet Pea steps out, pulling Cerberus by the leash as the Serpents exit on the opposite side.

Sweet Pea bends down to unhook the leather from around Cerberus' neck when he feels the shift, the change in the atmosphere. Suddenly, the Underworld feels much-warmer.

He turns to ask Topaz and Fangs if they feel it too, but he's interrupted by a voice he's heard only in his dreams.

"Wow, it really is you."

a/n: OH MY GOD IT’S ABOUT TO HAPPEN!!!

disclaimer: without @thesweetestsweetpea my life would be a wreck and i would’ve quit before i ever started. i am forever indebted to you, my darling. so send her a thank you if you liked this chap!

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